


once, there were stars above

by mikkal



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: introspective, what do i tag this as?, wow there's no hurt/comfort or angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 11:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18570355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkal/pseuds/mikkal
Summary: There's a hole in the ground.Noctis decides to head down.





	once, there were stars above

**Author's Note:**

> this was my piece for the "of the night" Noct zine! It was a blast to work on and it was amazing to work with such talented people. Thank you to everyone who bought a copy!

There is...a hole in the ground. A deep, gaping maw that leads into an endless void. They stand around it curiously, the sunset a backdrop of oranges and reds behind them.

“There’s a hole in the ground,” Prompto decides is worth saying out loud, then squawks when Gladio yanks him into a headlock.

Noctis snorts and carefully ignores the scuffle that breaks out between them. Ignis adjusts his glasses in lieu of face palming, but that doesn’t come close to hiding his fond exasperation. Noct bumps a sympathetic shoulder against his advisor’s, keeping his eyes riveted on the dark chasm swallowing the sunrays.

It’s large for a random hole. And there’s a haven that’s even larger nearby, meaning a hole like this should be on one of their many maps, yet it’s not even on the three hundred-year-old one Monica procured for them ( _somehow_ ).

“ _Why_ is there a hole in the ground?” Noct mutters, squinting at it. Hmm, it’s probably big enough for him to fit in. If he tries. He tilts his head, estimating. Oh, yeah, he’ll totally fit. He’s not a huge guy, as Gladio likes to point out. “I’m gonna go down,” he announces.

“You _will not_ ,” Ignis snaps, aghast, latching onto Noct’s arm in a vice grip. A split-second reaction based off years of experience and practice. “Need I remind you that _daemons_ are a thing?”

Noct turns around with a withering look that does absolutely nothing. He learned that look from Ignis and while it’s good, it has nothing on the master. Ignis gives him the same look with ten times the burn. He wrinkles his nose and reaches into the space between space for a spell flask as he shakes off his friend’s grip. He shoves his now free hand into his pocket, slouching in the way he knows Ignis hates, and thoughtfully weighs the first flask he finds.

Ah, a Thundaga. A bit overkill as a third-tier spell, but who cares? He’s got plenty of first and second tiers stuffed in there.

Ignis opens his mouth to give a not-so-mild threat of bodily harm if Noct even _thinks_ of doing anything remotely stupid, only to be too late. Without a word, Noct casually tosses the flask over his shoulder.

It hits the ground with a dull thud then _BOOM!_ Lightning cracks, thunder rolls. No one gets caught by stray strikes, thankfully, but the ground buckles. Prompto yelps, flailing forward. Gladio shoves him to safety, yanks Noct by the shirt collar from where he teeters precariously on the edge. The prince goes willingly, smirking.

The cavern below is revealed to be empty, nothing more than a smooth stone floor and reaching shadows.

“See?” Noct gestures smugly. There’s only moss and no daemon in sight. “Nothing’s there— _ow!_ ” He rubs the spot Prompto just smacked, pouting. “Not cool, dude.”

“‘ _Not cool_?’” Prompto shouts. “What’s not cool is _almost killing us!_ ”

Gladio shakes his collar like an unruly kitten. “That was a dumbass move,” he says, Ignis nodding in agreement.

Noct shrugs. “Well, then. You’re going to hate what I do next.”

Quick as can be, he flicks a now-useless _flos_ coin from his pocket down into the cavern. He follows it in a warp, phasing through Gladio and the hands grabbing for him. He reconnects on the ground in a burst of crystals. The force of it jars his knees, but he sticks a landing worth money if there were judges.

“ _Noctis_!” Gladio roars.

“I’m fine!” he calls back, waving up at them. They’re scrambling in the armory for their climbing gear, but it’s always just out of reach.

He’ll feel bad about abandoning them up there, just...later. For now, he focuses on the humming he’s been hearing in his head since they made camp at the large haven last night. The humming that’s led them all the way here, tucked behind some boulders and the other three dealing with their reckless prince. The humming that feels like the Crystal’s magic when he skirts too close to stasis, both steadying in presence and terrifying.

Noct takes a look around and, to his shock, finds a haven glowing familiar soft blue magic. It’s the smallest haven he’s ever seen, tucked flush against the cragged back wall. Blue runes mark a pathway to it, hazy with the same magic. He toes the closest one, feels the comfort of it wash over him.

 He steps forward, fascinated, and tosses the _flos_ coin further in. It bounces once, twice with a sharp clatter, then on the third and final strike against the ground, it’s muffled. As blunt and sudden as a smothered fire. He freezes then, limb-locked prey too use to noises attracting predators. He strains his ears for the sound of an attack, wary eyes never leaving the coin.

Noctis hears his friends, of course, the slight buzz of them accessing his magic.—hears the _dripdripdrip_ of water in the distance. —the soft curl of the haven’s magic that no one else seems to hear. —his own heartbeat. —his breathing.

—the crackle of lightning lingering above him.

A vibrating roll of thunder starts in his heart and rattles his teeth. He tastes the sharp point of ozone on his tongue. A storm hovers ominous above him, threatening to fall.

But it never comes.

Noctis looks up and gasps at the sight, stumbling back until his heel catches a crack in the stone. His trick leg buckles, sending him on his ass. His palms scrape on the ground, sting and bleed, but he doesn’t care. The pain is nothing compare to what’s above him.

A thousand—no, a _million_ crystals spark with the captured lightning of his Thundaga. They sit, imbedded into the inky black of the ceiling, glittering like stars frozen in a painting or those books he and Iggy read when they were kids. The way the white lightning jumps from colored crystal to colored crystal creates constellations in one flickering second then twists into undulating nebulae in the next. The blue of the haven casts a dawning day on the edge of the pseudo horizon.

It all frames a hollowed spot right above the haven, a seemingly empty space of black crystals that don’t conduct lightning. Noctis can imagine the shape of the Crystal sitting right there, like it belongs in a puzzle that’s been missing its final piece.

The low anxiety that he hadn’t been aware of soothes away the longer he stares upward. Noct’s breathing evens out, becoming easier than since his home fell to ruin. His shoulders slouch, his lungs loosen. His eyes, though, burn with unshed tears.

Noct rubs them with the back of his head, laughing softly at himself. Astrals, he’s not even sad. Or happy. Content, maybe, but it’s just so _beautiful._ When he closes his eyes, he hears everything from before, but also _them_. The stars.

He can _hear the stars_.

_King of Stone_ , they sing.

_Noctis Lucis Caelum._

_The Light in Our Night Sky._

**_Ours_** **,** they proclaim.

Noctis presses a hand over his heart. The stars pull him gently, like a twisting slow waltz, so different from the fast pace tango the Crystal prefers to take him on or the bass-heavy feel of the Astrals. The stars hum and sing, twirling in their sky, content with just making music. He covers his face with both hands, laughs out a sob into his palms. Sitting here, he’s never felt safer except in a haven surrounded by his friends or in the Regalia with his dad.

_Stay_ , the stars murmur.

“For the night,” he tells them. The stars acquiesce lovingly.

His footsteps are a little wobbly on his way back to his friends’ line of sight, but he makes it without stumbling. They’re still up there, struggling to find the gear. The moment he steps into the waning light of that sunset, there’s a faint sound of glass shattering. Prompto lets out a triumphant cry, yanking the gear high over his head. Gladio snatches it from him, starts to loop it all together. Noct watches them for a while, half-amused and all-fond, as they go back and forth. Then, finally, he waves on his tiptoes.

“Come on!” he calls up. There’s a collective cry of _Noct!_ that makes him laugh. “There’s a haven down here. Let’s camp out.” The stars sing their pleasure and he laughs openly. Ignis had opened his mouth to argue, but at Noct’s unguarded laugh he swallows his words.

Flickering light captures the side of his face, brightening his eyes like the horizon just before dawn. The stress of months on the road, the grief that lined his face, are all smoothed away, leaving him looking his age.

“Just for tonight,” Ignis agrees.

  _Just for you_ , the stars sing.


End file.
